


softcore

by fairy99



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Angst, Domestic Violence, Fights, Gun Violence, Guns, M/M, Married Couple, Modern Assassins, Physical Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy99/pseuds/fairy99
Summary: Professors Kim Minseok and Kim Jongdae are gorgeous. Happily married, helplessly in love and filthy liars. What happens when number Ninety-Nine, one of Korea's best undercover assassins, receives his next mission to exterminate target #21DJK and somehow recognises his husband, his pale lover with the curly hair, the nimble fingers and the prominent cheekbones?





	softcore

**Author's Note:**

> this idea was thought of whilst listening to softcore by the neighbourhood and so i structured it according to the lyrics of the song. please listen to it before you read it if you'd like!
> 
> this oneshot is approximately 3.6k in length and has graphic depictions of violence, please be careful while reading!
> 
> i hope you like it!  
> \- cherry

~~_you’ve been my muse for a long time_ ~~

The second that Minseok laid his eyes on him, he knew that he was never letting Jongdae go. There was something about him, his radiance, his glow underneath those club lights – something completely devastating in the sheer beauty of it all. Jongdae sat alone, swirling his drink around and around and around his glass, watching the neon liquid swim, circulate and eventually spill. He’d never been happier to look up at the owner of the hand that steadied his; the first thing that he had the privilege of seeing were Minseok’s eyes, crinkling ever so slightly as a result of the contact between the two.

Since then, to each other, they've only become more and more beautiful. Every last feature, each tiny detail like a brush stroke of colour in a black and white world.

 

~~_you get me through every dark night_ ~~

They remember them all, and God, were there many. The ones where the stars were twinkling like a hundred thousand little fairy lights in the sky, the ones where there wasn’t anything to see except wispy clouds illuminated by the pale, haunting shimmer of the moon. Every last breathless panic was absolved when Minseok had Jongdae by his side, steadying his hyperventilation into a manageable rhythm, stroking his hand with gentle, repetitive motions. Every last nightmare ceased to exist with Minseok’s soothing reassurances and affirmations, equally as comforting as the shaky fingertips running through his hair to calm him.

They never quite realised the similarity in their anxieties. 

 

~~_i'm always gone, out on the go_ ~~  
~~_i'm on the run and you're home alone_ ~~

The wait for the other to return was endless, consuming. Not knowing whether the last time they said goodbye was really and truly their final physical interaction. The last look back at their stupidly homely apartment that they promised to sell and eventually move out of… two years ago. The hasty kiss on the cheek a result of being late for work. Late for chaos. Other times it was disappearing in the middle of the night, a quick job, their biggest fears being waking their sleeping lover. Practically vanishing into thin air was an acquired skill. Sleeping peacefully came rarely.

 

_~~i’m too consumed with my own life~~ _

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise it’s just an overnight thing. They want me to cover someone's entire day of lectures and it’s a matter of urgency.”

“Does this mean I have to sleep alone again?”

“I promise you, I’ll be back in time for dinner tomorrow. I'll order whatever you feel like.”

Impromptu. It had to be done. For business.

 

~~_are we too young for this?_ ~~  
~~_feels like i can’t move_ ~~

Minseok’s constant worry about his age and his agility meant that he spent half of his time training in the gym, and it’s just coincidence that Jongdae was as body conscious as him. They embodied physical perfection, the best in their line of work. Gorgeous body ratios and soft, smooth skin that they were hazily able to worship on the rare occasion of a lie in. Joints worked well, muscles always tight, limbs constantly stretched, stamina always being tested. It had to be so. They would be dead otherwise.

Jongdae won't ever forget the very first time he saw Minseok naked.

Tipsy, giggly, shy Minseok who bashfully took his shirt off because Jongdae asked him to and kept apologising for the sight. Beautiful, beautiful Minseok that tested every last ounce of self-restraint that Jongdae had in his body, making it so hard for Jongdae not to get down on one knee. Or two.

 

~~_sharing my heart_ ~~

“Jongdae-yah-,”

“Hm?”

“You haven’t stopped pacing for the last ten minutes. What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing important, I promise.”

“Baby, come sit. Talk to me.”

“Ah, I’m just a little stressed. But it’s nothing, truly. Just work. They want to try and get me to cover an additional class this weekend.”

Jongdae thinks about how lucky he is that Minseok teaches literature and he himself majored in musical studies, buildings away. Their paths never cross. 

 

~~_it’s tearing me apart_ ~~  
~~_but i know i’d miss you, baby, if i left right now_ ~~

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” is the only thought that registers through Jongdae's head as he applies pressure to his newly obtained cut. His additional class had one too many students attending this time. The bastard only decided to play rough – surrounding and outnumbering him, aiming to overpower Jongdae with numbers instead of with skill. Foolish. 

Pitiful that their ringleader won't see the next day.

“What’s the lie this time?” He thought to himself, biting his lip while trying to come up with a plausible reason as to why his arm needed stitching on both ends, securing his handgun back into his holster and running without a glance in the other direction. Looking back at the lifeless scene would only cause extended guilt, and there was more than enough of that already.

“God- Jongdae, think. Something that Minseok will believe.”

It’s times like this that Jongdae wishes that he could just vanish, disappear out of Minseok’s life. The last thing he wants to do is to make him worry or put him in the danger that he does.

He is selfish; he can’t, he won’t, he refuses. He’d miss him too much.

 

~~_doing what i can, tryna be a man_ ~~

“Be a fucking man. You’ve done this before.” Minseok tells himself. “The quicker you fucking focus, the quicker you get to go home.”

He focuses his sniper. He waits. He feels the force of the ground that he lies on pushing against his ribcage. He breathes. He shoots. He runs.

 

~~_and every time i kiss you, baby_ ~~  
~~_i can hear the sound of breaking down_ ~~

Jongdae may have his reason as to why his arm is neatly stitched and scarring but he’s unable to explain why he bursts into tears in Minseok’s warm embrace, the feeling of being reunited causing sob after sob and, somehow, the feeling of safety spreading through every fibre in his being. Minseok’s lips on his forehead and their gentle touch is the softest thing that he’s felt since forever.

Minseok smiles, finally content, finally able to exhale. He must battle the looping sound of the gunshot in his head. Again, again, again. He aches to hear his lover’s voice instead. He fights himself in order to do so and wins, before the next time they must separate. He feels asphyxiated without Jongdae. He's lucky that, for most of the time, he seems to win. 

 

~~_i’ve been confused as of late_ ~~

“Come in, Ninety-Nine.” A distorted voice croaks through Minseok’s earpiece and transmitter. This is strange. This never usually happens.

“We have a new target for you. Abandon Sixty-Eight, Zero-Four will cover him. Head back to base immediately.”

 

~~_watching my youth slip away_ ~~

This new kind of adrenaline makes him run faster than he has before. In the history of his entire career, he’s never been told to abandon a target. They’re unexplainably hard to locate, even harder to secure, and downright impossible to exterminate. The anxiety can’t be helped, he’s been programmed to shoot first, feel later. He had him. Two more seconds, just two more, and it would’ve been done.

Minseok wonders what his name is – was, what his name was. Zero-Four is just as capable as he is.

 

~~_you’re like the sun, you make me young_ ~~

He’s shattered, exhausted, running on burnt toast and a cup of coffee that scorched his throat due to the urgency in which he consumed it. Not the best for his diet, but it couldn’t be helped. This is just another thing that he must work through, it’ll be alright. All he thinks of is Jongdae, their bed that they never make and the dozens of plushies dotted around its edges, the times that they turned their room into a fort with a hundred blankets and their Christmas lights. The fact that their blinds probably haven't been opened all day; the fluffy, oversized pillows that they have lying around in their lounge. The feeling of safety he so desperately craves, and receives when he’s with Jongdae. Curling up in front of the television, ordering takeout rice-cakes (also not the best for his diet) and falling asleep in the arms of his husband. The thoughts extract a genuine smile. The sun peeks out of the clouds right before he runs through a tunnel, entering hastily, all natural light being instantaneously cut off. 

He shivers.

 

~~_but you drain me out if i get too much_ ~~

“Glad you're here, Ninety-Nine. We have a new target. Code number Twenty-One, initial code D-J-K. He’s our newest problem. Took out four of our men the other day.”

“Four? Jesus, where did he come from?”

“I don't know, and at this point, I don't fucking care. He's priority. I need you to get rid of him."

“Relax, Ten. You haven't breathed once in the last thirty seconds of talking. Don't worry, I've got it."

 

~~_i might need you or i’ll break_ ~~

“God, it was carnage. I think someone managed to knife him. Ninety-Four managed to take a picture as he made his escape and it's pretty much all we have for now. Come and look."

Minseok did. He didn't have to look for longer than ten seconds for him to realise just who he was staring at. It felt like his eyes were tricking him, some feigned escapade or stupidly unreal concept that his mind had constructed due to fatigue, exhaustion, _whatever:_ as long as it wasn't the truth. It felt as if all the blood had been drained from his body - he could recognise that hair, those curly chestnut-coloured locks that he loved gripping his hands in, that stance that he so meticulously observed in the gym, in the kitchen, in the shower. Those cheekbones, glinting with sweat underneath the perplexed glare of the sun and those eyes - glazed with anxiety. Somehow simultaneously completely emotional and hopelessly blank. Malfunctioning.

He had  _never_ wished, prayed, begged for ignorance as hard as he did now.

 

~~_are we too young for this?_ ~~

“Ninety-Nine, where the fuck are you going?”

 

~~_feels like i can’t move_ ~~

Every step towards their home was painful. Every breath was a challenge. There was nobody to contain his panic, nobody to regulate his breath, nobody to calm him down. The one person that perhaps could’ve helped Minseok breathe was the person causing the panic this time. He wanted to scream but the sound refused to surface, sitting tightly in his chest and swallowing him whole. He imagines that a single bullet from his sniper feels the same way as he does, where everything he had ever known came crashing down in the span of a millisecond as his eyes latched onto target Twenty-One’s stupidly gorgeous features. Despite the lower half of his face being masked, he has no trouble in identifying his husband. He’s made love to that person, fallen asleep in the arms of that person, been on spontaneous 3am dates with that person, he’s married that person.

He feels sick to his stomach.

He ripped his earpiece out from his ears, shoving the wire that extended around the back of his head into his holster, and staggered up the stairs to apartment 120.

 

~~_sharing my heart_ ~~

It took several minutes of staring before Minseok could choke up the words. He wanted proof, needed something to snap himself into the truth that he refused to believe. All the excuses that Minseok had made, his mind suggesting lookalikes, hallucinations, even just a prank by his fellow co-workers, dissipated into thin air once his eyes grazed over his arm. Meticulously stitched and in the healing stages, too deep for the box cutter accident that Jongdae had claimed was the cause.

He gulped, dizzy before he uttered even a single word.

“Want to know what gave you away, Twenty-One?”

 

~~_it’s tearing me apart_ ~~  
~~_but i know i’d miss you, baby, if i left right now_ ~~

Minseok leaned into the doorframe for the support he now lacked. Each letter was hard to enunciate – he had never, in his entire lifetime, found it this hard to speak to somebody. Jongdae’s back faced him, hunched over his desk, systematically marking examination papers from the test he had his students sit last Thursday.

It wasn’t just somebody. It was his husband. His lover. His traitor. His target.

The look of shock in Jongdae’s face as he turned to face Minseok was more than enough confirmation for him.

 

~~_doing what i can, tryna be a man_ ~~

“Minseok, what on earth are you talking about?”

And with that, the elder snapped. The salted tears streamed down his face as he ripped his handgun out of his holster with shaking hands, aiming it at his target. They burned. It all burned. The elastic of the holster snapped angrily against his skin, turning it an angry shade of red and causing his earpiece to fall out. His hair dishevelled from the vigorous combing through it with his anxious fingers, his eyes bloodshot and stinging from the harsh reality of the situation.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.”

His hands, for the first time in his entire life, shook the hardest that they had ever done before. He could feel his heartbeat thump through his ears, in his veins, in every last inch of his body.

 

_~~and every time i kiss you, baby~~ _  
_~~i can hear the sound of breaking down~~ _

Jongdae’s eyes darted towards the earpiece, now lying on the floor. Minseok remembers when he was first gifted it; a pale blue colour, custom made, with two number nines engraved in black ink. The pastel hue contrasted deeply against their black rug.

“I want you to keep these in when you’re on the job at all times, understood?” Ten told him, the stern look on his face somehow cancelling out with his deep dimples and the slightest of smiles. “If your ass needs saving, this is how we know." Minseok remember his pause, his intake of breath, everything about the exchange. 

"I like you, Ninety-Nine. And I mean it." Ten continued, "It doesn't happen often, so do as I fucking say.”

Minseok did. Until now.

Jongdae’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“You’re… the infamous Ninety-Nine.” He stated, slowly testing the words out, trying out the concept. The man who he claimed to be his everything, his universe – was exactly the same as him.

 

~~_i don’t want to play this part_ ~~

Minseok fired a blank towards their window, causing Jongdae to jump up. His exam papers flew everywhere as he gripped the edge of the desk for purchase. He pulled his Glock 19 out in defence, uncapping the safety and pointing it downwards. Minseok only ever shoots with range, and unlike his, Jongdae’s gun was actually loaded. “I fucking knew it.” Minseok spat, throwing his empty gun against the wall, shattering the glass that protected the surface of the clock and causing the whole thing to come crashing down. He slowly strode towards Jongdae, glass crunching underneath his steps – adrenaline, pain and everything in between possessing him like some inherent demon. “Shoot me, I dare you.”

 

~~_but i do, all for you_ ~~

For the second that Jongdae actually considered, Minseok punched him square in the jaw. His head jerked back and he stumbled incoherently, feeling the sting. Jongdae retaliated, clawed at his face, flipping him around and pinning him against the wall, gun still pointing downwards.

“Why carry a handgun that has no fucking bullets in it, Ninety-Nine?” He muttered, his teeth clenched and eyes darkened with sorrow, some deep and tormenting anguish that Jongdae couldn't even comprehend verbalising. “Or is it Professor Kim Minseok?” He questioned, using his stitched, unoccupied arm to choke Minseok, depriving him of oxygen.

“Fuck you.” Minseok rasped, gasping for air, kneeing Jongdae in the side of his hip before pushing him off his body, causing him to drop his gun. Minseok kicked it underneath Jongdae’s desk. “For your kind information-“ He began, clasping his hands around Jongdae’s throat. “I shoot long distance.” Minseok used a hand to shape Jongdae's hair back into place, the locks that allowed him to be so easily identified slick with sweat and disarranged. 

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Ninety-Nine. Everyone’s been telling me that the day I meet you will be my last.” He breathed, as he was pressed into the bed. Minseok grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head.

 

~~_i don’t want to make this hard_ ~~

He traced a finger along Jongdae’s latest scar. “Some fucking box-cutter, huh?”

“You think you can do worse?” Jongdae spat, the feelings of betrayal and broken trust swelling in his body, spreading like a poison. Minseok’s lips hovered above the pale skin of Jongdae’s neck, so tempted to kiss him and break him all at once.

“Looks like we already did.” Minseok chuckled bitterly, pressing his forehead into the nape of his husband’s neck, causing Jongdae to groan. “I'd take a box cutter over destroying everything, our love, our marriage, everything that we spent so long building up any fucking day."

 

~~_but now i will, ‘cause i’m still_ ~~  
~~_sharing my heart_ ~~

The younger kicked Minseok, causing them both to fall off the bed and land in the shards of glass. The elder felt the skin on the back of his neck prick as the pieces of the broken clock scraped against him. Bits of glass embedded themselves into his palm at his attempt to claim purchase, up and off the busy floor. The ground was cold and hard against them, shoving just as much force into the elder's shoulderblades as Jongdae was, pushing him down. Jongdae sat on Minseok, using his hair to pull his head up and then slam it back into the ground repeatedly and mercilessly.

~~_it’s tearing me apart_ ~~  
~~_but i know i miss you, baby, if i left right now_ ~~

Minseok’s eyes momentarily shut, dazed at the impact. “Stay with me, Ninety-Nine. It’s too early to leave me.” Jongdae whispered, mumbling the words into Minseok’s ear like it was some sort of Chinese whisper. Minseok inhaled alarmingly hard, taking the opportunity to use his elbow to force Jongdae off him. The loss of the crushing weight on top of him had him wheezing as he staggered, trying to get on his feet.

“Fuck–“ Minseok breathed. “Is that all you’ve got to offer me, Professor Kim Jongdae?” He regained his balance and pushed Jongdae with all of his strength, sending him stumbling to his desk and letting everything fall off it in the process. “Destroy the house too while you’re at it. Did any of it even mean anything to you?”

 

~~_doing what i can, tryna be a man_ ~~

And that seemed to strike a nerve within Jongdae.

“You’re the only fucking thing that had the ability to make me smile, regardless of the situation, you fucking asshole.” Jongdae screamed, picking up a photo frame and smashing it against the crown of Minseok’s head. “Cuddling with you in this stupid fucking house that we built together is the only thing that’s worth anything to me.” Again, glass shattered everywhere, the shards glistening somewhat angelically as they showered his head. “Don’t you ever even think of saying that shit to me again.”

 

~~_and every time i kiss you, baby_ ~~  
~~_i can hear the sound of breaking down_ ~~

“Or? Or what, D-J-K?” Minseok sobbed, punching Jongdae so hard it caused his nose to start bleeding. Minseok could feel the beads of blood forming in his hair, a feeling he was well acquainted with. His aim was commendable - even whilst crying hysterically. He shoved Jongdae’s head back into the wall and put both of his crimson-painted hands on his skin, gripping it with such passion that he didn’t know whether to break that pretty face of his or kiss it instead. “Do you have any idea what it feels like seeing a photo of your husband as your next target?”

He was drowning in emotion. It was as if each memory that came flashing back to him was like a wave of sea-water. They choked him with their magnitude and their sea-salt and filled up every last little inch of space within his lungs. Bits of the glass jar filled with seashells that they had spent days collecting together on their honeymoon in Jeju lay shattered all over the wooden surface of the desk. Jongdae's favourite grey cotton bedsheets lay stained in blood and tears and everything else in between. The paintings they had hung on the wall from their first official date where Jongdae got the coral pink paint all over his fingertips and accidentally brushed it on Minseok's nose and Minseok spent a good twenty minutes pouting about it and all Jongdae could do was laugh and squeal over how adorable he looked - lay crumpled on the floor. They were intact, strokes and blocks of colour that were suffering from the violent force of an angry, heartbroken couple trained in murdering - restraining from doing so because they're in _fucking_ _love_.

 

~~_i’m breaking down_ ~~

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe and so he kissed him. He kissed him with such vigour, such aggression, such anger. Every last feeling that electrified their veins was felt between their lips as Minseok weeped. Jongdae held on to Minseok for dear life, crying and bleeding and shaking into their kiss. They both tasted iron, each newly acquired scratch could be felt underneath Jongdae's calloused fingertips. 

Kissing whilst gasping for air was a difficult combination of tasks. The adrenaline began to dissipate as the ache and feelings of being lightheaded began to simmer into their systems. The anger went nowhere, the betrayal only magnified by the second and the pain was never-ending; both physical and emotional. The release of all these feelings resulted in blood and probably a few broken bones- ah, Jongdae felt his left knee in a state of dislocation. 

Now came the talking.


End file.
